


we're each others tether

by jichaeng



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jichaeng/pseuds/jichaeng
Summary: I wrote this quite a bit ago for a diff thing but did an edit and it works better like this i thinktw for some not great parenting its not very explicit though owomore charactery than relationshipy





	we're each others tether

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite a bit ago for a diff thing but did an edit and it works better like this i think  
tw for some not great parenting its not very explicit though owo  
more charactery than relationshipy

8

Chaeyoung faces the wall, pouting. It's not her fault some stupid boy called her short, which, by the way, she most definitely was not, and the only reasonable course of action she had thought of was to wait until he nodded off to sleep and draw all over his face. 

He deserved it anyway, she didn't understand why she was the one being punished for it, it was only just revenge. To add to her dissatisfaction, the stupid teacher had banned her from playing with the stupid colouring pens any more. Now all she could draw with were crayons and they severely limited her creative capacity. 

Maybe if she made a point of saying that to her teacher, hopefully without stuttering over the long words her father was trying to teach her this time, they would let her off…. Nah. Probably not.

They would forget about it in a week or so anyway, the teachers around here weren't all that strict. Last week when she had fallen asleep during lessons they hadn't even told her off, although maybe the conversation she had overheard that morning, with her father talking to them about her having had a nightmare was the reason for that. Who knows. Adults and their tendency to change their minds on what offenses are punishable are weird.

She grows tired of her own thoughts rather quickly and instead starts taking in the details of the corner that she has been left in. A faint cobweb that tangles far above her, strands as delicate as silk intertwined so intricately it could almost be a piece of art. The soft purple carpet underfoot, faded in colour in some places from years of use, dirt trodden into it visible beneath her feet.

Pulling at a thread hanging from the edge of her sleeves, the fabric rides up and she catches sight of a purple line drawn across her wrist that she swears had not been there a second ago when she had been drawing. Glaring down at it in the hopes that somehow its presence will explain itself doesn't seem to help all that much, so she resolves to ask the teacher about it when her time out was done. She turns around, sneakily glancing at the clock on the wall, to see that there is only one minute left of her punishment.

Her finger taps along on the wall, counting the seconds off, and as such she is unsurprised when exactly five seconds after her countdown is complete a teacher tells her that she can leave. Catching hold of the older woman's shirt sleeve before the teacher can make her way back to the corner that she was so fond of observing them from, Chaeyoung looks up at the woman's face, eyes steadfast.

“Miss,” she says, voice full of curiosity, “this line appeared on my arm. How did it get there?” She sees the woman pause, several emotions flashing across their eyes at once as she twists a ring on her finger, before replying.

“I think that's something it would be better for you to ask your father about.” By the serious look in the elder's eye she knows not to ask any further, resolving to wait out the rest of her day in peace, rolling her sleeves down to cover the mark. 

When it's time for them to go home, she is a lot more eager than normal. Generally she prefers to lag behind and avoid going back for as long as possible, trying to avoid the sullen silence that she is so often left with, but she has something important to ask today and as such makes no effort to escape her father's gaze but rather runs outside to greet him. 

The instant they are in the car, in what seems to be a reasonably private area, she asks her question again.  
“This line appeared on my arm,” she rolls her sleeve up, exposing her wrist, and lifting her arm in front of her father's face, “How did it get there?” She sees her father's eyebrows lift in surprise, then he sighs, eyes growing weary.

“That my dear,” he replies, looking at her with more fondness than she has seen from him in a long time, “means you have a soulmate. One that is rather careless about cleaning their arms too by the looks of it.” 

“Oh.” she says, not quite understanding, “what exactly is a soulmate?”

“A soulmate is someone you're destined to spend the rest of your life with,” is the response, her father's eyes reflect far off memories back at her and before she can help herself she finds herself asking once more.

“Do you have a soulmate?” The air grows tense, her father turning away suddenly, reverting back to his standard state of ignoring her. The drive back home is silent and she doesn't understand why what she had said was wrong. Not until later that evening. 

While sneaking downstairs for a drink, she finds her father crying over well worn photos, the corners of them curling up. 

She puts all the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind and comes to one solid conclusion: Her father had lied; Not all soulmates are destined to spend their lives together.

12

Chaeyoung looked down at the paint splashed across her forearms in frustration. It would be a lot easier for her to pretend that she doesn't have a soulmate if she wasn't so into art. She tried her best not to get paint on herself but she always ended up so absorbed in her artwork that she forgot about it, so lost in the depths of her imagination that nothing else seems to matter. Which means that her soulmate knows she still exists. Wonderful.

The first time something like this had happened her soulmate had been overjoyed, scrawling message after message to her across her arms. She had proceeded to ignore all of the responses, pulling her sleeves down to cover her arms, but it had done nothing to deter them. They still wrote to her every single day, lines of text on their day and random ramblings going unreplied to but not unread.

Today's message was half hidden by the mess on her arms and as she washed the paint off it reappeared. ‘hi,’ it read, ‘today I'm going to have piano lessons after school and then i have to tutor my friend. What are you doing today?’ They always attached a little question onto the end, regardless of how often she had ignored them. She couldn't help but feel kind of jealous of their optimism at the very least.

At some point they had also gotten into the habit of leaving a small purple heart on her thumb. She thought it was foolish. For someone that didn't even know her to even imply that they loved her was an absolutely idiotic thing to do. (She'll never admit to herself that it actually makes her feel slightly happy every time she catches sight of it.)

Returning to her painting, she continues on as before, becoming absorbed in her work once more. After a few minutes she's drawn out of her almost trance-like state by a knock on the door. She turns to see her father standing in the doorway of her room, expression blank as always, emotionless. That changes when he sees the writing on her arm though, the writing that she normally works so hard to cover up but had forgotten about today, too busy painting to notice his presence before it was too late, and he approaches her, eyes hardening.

A tight grip on her arm comes as no surprise to her, this normally happens whenever she was careless enough to allow her soulmate's writing to be visible in his presence. 

“Wow your soulmate seems like a talented young boy,” he sneers at her, scowling down at her as his fingers press so tightly into her wrist she feels as though they will leave indents.  
“How do you know it's a boy?” She regrets her response the instant the words leave her mouth, the grip becoming somehow, impossibly, tighter.

“If you can think of something that stupid to say you clearly need to study more.” Her father's words are almost spat at her, voice laced with venom. Then suddenly she's being let go of, shoved to the side so quickly she almost loses her balance.

She sees her father now walking back across the room, away from her, stopping only to look back at her in disgust as he exits.

The next five minutes are spent furiously scrubbing the writing off her arm in the ensuite bathroom. The skin on her arm is red and raw when she's finished, almost matching the mottled bruising beginning to appear on her wrist. Looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror in disgust, she sees tears welling in her eyes but refuses to shed them. 

She knows exactly who is to blame for this situation she finds herself in. Her stupid soulmate. She glares down at the faded purple heart on her thumb, vowing to never think kindly of it ever again.

16.1

When Tzuyu first asks Chaeyoung out she can't do much except from look at her in a mixture of disgust and confusion, paralysed in fear at the thought of her father finding out. As soon as she regains her senses she runs away, easily losing herself in the crowded school hallway.

The second and third time she's asked out she reacts in a similar manner. Being short gave her an advantage when it comes to hiding, something she's grateful for.

At this point she hopes the other girl has got the message, although she doubts it as from what she knows Tzuyu is ridiculously stubborn. She's not all that surprised when she sees her waiting in front of her locker once more; it's something she'd had to get used to over the past few weeks. Dragging her feet, she sighs as she walks over to her locker, scowling up at the girl who's blocking her way.

“Will you go out with me?” Is what she's greeted with, predictably. She simply frowns up at the girl, who's refusing to budge.

“Don't you have a soulmate anyway? Go away.” she snaps at her, frown deepening. Watching as Tzuyu shuffles her feet awkwardly, she almost feels bad for her.

“I… haven't found my soulmate yet…” is the murmured response, almost too quiet for her to hear, “and i heard you haven't either so I just thought…maybe we could date.” She doesn't want to be endeared by the slight blush making its way across Tzuyu's cheeks, but for whatever reason she is. Maybe that's why she finds herself nodding, finds herself unable to take it back at the joyful look on Tzuyu's face.

16.2

In the few weeks they've been dating, Chaeyoung finds herself liking Tzuyu more and more, she has yet to tell her that though. The two of them are cautious about dating, only having first kissed a week ago, due to Chaeyoung's constant concern of her father finding out. 

As she tugs down the sleeves on her shirt, long sleeved of course, something she's taken to wearing since long ago, in an effort to cover up the writing and the damage that it caused her father to inflict, she cannot help but think of her soulmate, think that she is betraying them. Sure, she may not like the idea of her soulmate, but wasn't this like… cheating? She doesn't want to end up like her mother any more than she wishes to be like her father. Maybe… this wasn't such a good idea.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she decides that no, it's not cheating. She doesn't owe anything to a soulmate that she's never met; that she doesn't even know if she'll ever like as much as she likes Tzuyu right now.

16.3

It's on their six month anniversary that Chaeyoung realises that she's in love with Tzuyu. 

She's been preparing for this moment for a while, staying together for half of a year is no easy feat after all. The chocolates that she knows are Tzuyu's favourite and card containing her carefully written confession held within her arms, she makes her way inside her girlfriend's house.

The shock, betrayal and anger she feels as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend kissing another girl in front of her isn't something she knows how to describe. She feels her heart almost shatter at the sight, unable to stop herself from gasping as her gifts drop from her hold, the sound of which causes Tzuyu to turn towards her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

She feels her heart break a little more as her girlfriend does not move away from the other girl, instead holding them closer in her surprise, hands wound through their dark hair. There seems to be no need for words as they stare at each other, so many questions she wishes to ask held within her eyes.

Chaeyoung turns to leave, giving up on the situation, when she feels a hand on her shoulder and a whispered “wait.” So she does, trying to prevent herself from hoping for anything, but failing as her heartbeat soars at the contact.

“She’s … my soulmate.”

It's something she isn't surprised to hear, after all there's only one thing that could ever sway Tzuyu's fierce loyalty, but it pains her nonetheless. Shrugging the hand from her shoulder, she sprints away from the house, tears stinging her eyes as wind lashes her cheeks. 

It's the last time Tzuyu speaks to her for a while, not that she gives her a chance to really, defenses rebuilt and rigidly blocking out anyone. Especially her. It had been easy for her to avoid her before, but now that she knew her better it was almost effortless, although perhaps Tzuyu was avoiding her too because surely her luck could not be all that good.

It's the first time she feels the heartbreak that songs always seem to mention. She had thought that the singers were exaggerating before, but as she weeps on her doorstep, struggling to breathe through the tears, she thinks that perhaps they were not. Perhaps the hurt and the anger and the bitter, bitter sadness that tore through her, that made it difficult for her to concentrate on anything over than her own pain, could be useful to her as it always seemed to be to those who sang of it. 

16.4

After a few days that felt like weeks, of crying through her pain and feeling like she cannot breathe, she manages to come to her senses, to realise that a girl is not everything in her life. She still has her art, her drawings and paintings and the happiness that they inspire in her. She still has the constant purple heart on her thumb and the scribbles of a stranger upon her arm.

The thought that, maybe, by ignoring her own soulmate she had caused them pain even a fraction as bad as what she has recently been feeling, is what pushes her to respond one day, hidden under her bed covers. The particular location is chosen partially to hide away from her father, terrified of his reaction if he were ever to find out, but also to hide it away from the world, wanting to keep these moments, these precious words that she shares, to herself.

Quickly scratching an apology across her arm, she immediately feels better, the weight that had been so constantly pressing upon her chest, that she had not even realised was there until a few moments ago, lifting almost instantly. She just had to hope her soulmate was nice enough to reply to her. Its unsurprising that the response is fast. If she had been waiting eight years for a reply she'd respond quickly too.

‘Oh. So you can write.’ reads the ink that appears on her skin, ‘I'd begun to think I was imagining your existence.’

‘Don't worry.’ she writes back, hand shaking as the pen traces the letters across her arm, ‘I'm real.’ and she smiles, maybe soulmates weren't such a bad thing...

20

Being at college, Chaeyoung feels the freest she has ever been. There's no need for her to hide the writing on her arms any more. No need to swelter in the heat while wearing long-sleeved shirts just to cover the marks upon her arms. No need to worry about her father scolding her, shouting at her until she wept upon the floor, forcing her to get better grades, to work harder and study longer until all her time was consumed with numbers and words swirling through her mind rather than the fleeting freedom of her art.

She smiles at the purple heart on a thumb, the only positive constant in her life, at the reminder of her soulmate, who she considers to be her closest friend.

As she scans over her schedule for the semester, she wrinkles her nose at the maths class she had been forced to take. They expected her to wake up at nine just to do maths? She's an art major, what does she need maths for anyway?

Checking her watch, she realises that she'd be late for the stupid class if she didn't get a move on and so grabs her bag, pulling her shoes on as she slips out of the door, rushing down the corridor and crashing through the doors to outside. The path across to the main campus is familiar, as are the buildings that tower above her as she makes her way to where she assumes the class should be, steps faster than usual. The door is still open when she reaches the room so she sneaks inside, claiming a seat a few rows back as she settles in, glancing at the mostly full room.

The teacher doesn't say anything about her entrance, presumably not having noticed, merely continuing with their explanation of the syllabus that nobody really seems to be paying attention to. Instead she focuses on writing messages for her soulmate, complaining about maths class, their reply saying they could tutor her makes her laugh silently. She snaps out of it when she hears the dreaded words, “test next week”.

‘A test? Already?” she scribbles, annoyed. She frowns at the response of ‘me too!’. What are the chances… Subtly glancing around the classroom she spots only one other person writing on their arm, a girl with their hair tied up in a ponytail. She watches them as they trace letters onto their skin, then watches letters appear on her own arm not even a second later. Surely, they couldn't be?

“Hey!” A shout from the front of the classroom attracts her attention, “You were already late, at least listen please.” Slouching down in her seat in embarrassment, she catches the eye of the girl (her soulmate?) and, thinking quickly, gives them a thumbs up. Their eyes widen slightly in shock, before responding in kind. She smiles at the sight of the familiar purple heart. So she was right. That is her soulmate.

Turning back to the front, she tries her best to pay attention to the lesson, but finds herself caught up in worries. What if her soulmate didn't actually like her? She had ignored them for eight years…

It takes all of her effort not to run away when the bell rings, instead waiting in her seat for her soulmate to approach her.

“Hi. I'm Dahyun. Kim Dahyun. Your… soulmate?” the girl's voice is sweet, delicate as she introduces herself, a goffy grin stretched across her face.

“Chaeyoung." she replies simply, her own grin wobbling a little as she stares, “sorry that I like. Ignored you for a while back there.”

Dahyun's smile doesn't shift, the smile in her eyes doesn't fade at all either, “don't worry about it.” 

Chaeyoung can't help but feel suspicious, surely she could not be forgiven so easily. Surely she'd be expected to pay her back somehow. In her experience, kindness, when it rarely was shown to her, is something that needs to be repaid.

The two of them talk don't talk for much longer, Chaeyoung makes up an excuse about having to be at her next lesson soon, despite being free until noon. She escapes as quickly as possible, she doesn't understand why someone would forgive so easily, surely nobody could be that nice.

The next few days are spent trying her best to avoid Dahyun, leaving short replies to the messages on her arms, hiding whenever she spots her on campus. It's understandably overwhelming, being confronted so suddenly with something she's not long since learned is not as bad a thing as she had been convinced of. 

While she hides she takes the time to observe the girl. The first time she sees her helping another girl pick up her books, before glancing at her watch and running off, presumably to class. The second time she sees her helping someone she recognised as an arts teacher to carry boxes up a flight of stairs. 

Looking at all the evidence, maybe, just maybe, it is possible that Dahyun is really just that nice.  
Pulling a pen out of her pocket she writes as she walks to lesson, hoping that the words are legible, ‘are you still up for tutoring me?’ After all, she did need to study for the test in two days too. The reply appears as she's making her way up the steps to the art rooms, a rushed ‘sure.’ alongside the signature purple heart. 

Perhaps she could get used to having a soulmate, and a really nice one at that.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are cool. please validate me.


End file.
